


Not Quite The Gift of the Magi or: Put A Ring On It

by guti



Series: The Continuing Adventures of Merseyside's Finest [4]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Kittens, M/M, Puppies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 15:05:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5460779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guti/pseuds/guti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What do you want for Christmas?”</p><p>“I want Liverpool to win the league.”</p><p>“Something realistic, mate.  You’ll be lucky if they pull fifth.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Quite The Gift of the Magi or: Put A Ring On It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anemoi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anemoi/gifts).



> consider this a plot-less interlude set in [this](http://archiveofourown.org/series/368843) AU.
> 
> and even though she's traveling and likely won't see this for a bit, it's dedicated to [Anemoi](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Anemoi), as this whole premise was her doing. happy holidays, lovely!

Three Christmases they’d been together… or two, since the first one hardly counted. They’d been seeing each other only a month by the time the first holiday rolled around, so there was a strange sense of awkwardness that accompanied it. What is one supposed to give their lover of one month anyway, when you’re still in that stage of trying to woo and impress them and convince them that they haven't made a poor choice in partners? Everything seems either too personal or too impersonal in that in-between stage of a relationship. Luckily, they'd weathered it, and now two years later they’d just marked their anniversary with a nice night out and some passionate love-making, and afterward their pillow talk eventually turned to the mundanity of familial obligations at the holidays.

“My brother’s planning a thing on Christmas Eve,” Gary said, settling onto his back in bed, the sheets kicked down to his feet. “He’ll want us to at least make an appearance.”

Carra suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. “When’s he not planning a thing? I swear, it’s every other month he’s got one of these parties he expects us to come to.”

“Yes, well, he’s an events coordinator. That’s what he does.”

“I get that but does he have to invite us to all of them?”

Gary snorted, wrapping his arms around Carra, pulling him close, a small contented sound escaping him as Carra pressed his nose to his chin. “Welcome to the family, Jamie. Thought you'd be well used to it by now.”

“I am. Mostly.” He sighed, rubbing his nose against Gary’s stubble. “But you know my folks’ll want us to stop by too.”

Beneath him, Gary groaned a little.

“It’s only fair, Gary. I don’t even want to stay the whole night, but me dad’ll skin me alive if we don’t drop in for a bit.”

“Can’t we do your parents’ place on Christmas Day? Just considering the amount of driving involved…”

Carra yawned. That was usually how it went. They’d debate the travel logistics until one or both of them fell asleep or changed the topic. Not that family affairs weren’t a devastatingly interesting line of conversation, but. Well, to be honest neither of them especially cared. They’d both rather stay home with each other, especially now that they had their own place together.

That had been more a point of contention than anything else. The commute between Liverpool and Manchester was killer when neither of them particularly wanted to live in the other’s city. They had their own lives and obligations in their communities, and neither was too keen on relocating. But in the end, Carra had won… more or less. He’d made a decent case about why staying in his role at the department was important and had even gone out of his way to prove that having Gary commute would be more practical. Gary was rarely on call the way Carra was. Gary could sometimes work from home. Carra often had to drop everything and rush in for a case. Carra’s hours were longer, meaning he’d have to factor in the trains or traffic before he’d even be home. But they weren’t in Carra’s old flat. They had a new place of their own, nearer to the station.

And it wasn’t so bad, really. Gary only complained about the scousers every so often, and there was a certain kind of happiness that came with living with the love of his life. Still, Carra liked to tease him about it. His Manc left Manchester, just for him. It was like a badge of honor, a point of pride. If that wasn’t proof that Gary Neville loved him, then what the hell was?

“Jamie?” Gary said softly, running his fingers through Carra’s hair. Carra was mostly draped over him then, burrowed in snugly.

“Mm?”

“What do you want for Christmas?”

“Mm.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Carra exhaled a chuckle, breath warm against the skin of Gary’s neck as he mulled it over. He was getting to the age, he supposed, when he didn't really want anything for Christmas. He had most everything he could want. He had a job he loved, the man he loved, friends he loved, a house he loved. He could always use practical things, like new socks or for someone to finally and definitively fix the heater in Gary’s car, or maybe a new toaster, since their old one sometimes didn’t pop up properly, but gifts like that were always such a let down. And he knew better than to ask Gary to get him tickets to a Liverpool match— some boundaries just couldn’t be crossed, no matter how much love there was between them. So he laughed a little, mumbling into Gary’s skin. “I want Liverpool to win the league.”

He couldn’t see it but Gary blanched. “Something realistic, mate.”

“Piss off. We’ve got a decent chance this year.”

“You’ll be lucky if they pull fifth.”

“Oi, that’s cheeky of you.”

“It’s the truth and you know it. Now, if they’d shore up their defense a bit…”

“Nothing’s wrong with our defense. There’s a technique there that you clearly don’t understand.”

“Oh, I don’t understand it? Please, do go on about their stellar defensive work. Tell me again about how all they need’s a bit more… what’s the word you kept using? Fluidity?”

“At least I know you were listening to me.”

“I always listen to you, love.” Gary squeezed him tighter, kissed the top of his head. “But can’t you tell me what you really want for Christmas?”

Carra sighed, in spite of himself, because no matter how they squabbled, the banter between them was pure affection, pure love. If any other Manc (or anyone else on the planet) dared speak to him that way, insult his club and their tactics, he’d be liable to give them a wallop. But not Gary, not his Manc. And vice versa, he supposed. He got away with an awful lot of shit talk, just because Gary loved him so much. He supposed they must drive other people crazy, but they were beyond giving two shits. They were who they were and they loved each other, despite their own feelings regarding the other’s preferred club or town of origin. They were bloody inspirational, and Carra would say so, if anyone bothered to ask him.

“Can I take a cop out and say I want you for Christmas?”

“No. You’ve already got me.”

“Damn.”

“Think on it. Sleep on it. You can tell me in the morning.” Gary shifted a little, so he could reach the lamp on the bedside table.

“A dog,” Carra said, flipping onto his back so Gary could move.

He paused, mid-reach, and slowly looked back at Carra. “A dog?”

Carra shrugged, locking eyes with him. “Yeah. A dog. Never had a dog before.”

Gary blinked, dumbfounded. “You hardly even take care of your fish. What’re you gonna do with a dog?”

“In me own defense, those fish are easily forgettable. It’s not like they can bark at you when they want attention. They’re more decoration than pets.” He waggled a finger to emphasize his point.

“You seriously want a dog, Carra?” Gary was still staring at him, not like he had sprouted another head, but the look was pretty damn close.

“It’s not as if I’m asking you if you want a baby.” He paused, then quickly added, “Right now.”

Gary snorted, sitting up straight, commanding Carra’s full attention. “Do you really want a dog?”

Carra sat up too. “Not unless you don’t want one.”

“Jamie.”

“Alright. Yes. Gary, can we get a puppy?”

*

They brought her home a week later. All things considered, they’d been quick to agree on which breed of dog to get, and when they contacted a breeder and found a litter with a few puppies still available, it was all a matter of choosing which one. And she was simply irresistible, a precious little thing with silky white and chocolate colored fur and large eyes like a fawn. She stood out from the rest, bright and alert and dominating her siblings, and from that moment Carra was convinced she was the one. All she had to do was crawl into Gary’s lap and she’d won him over too.

The hardest part of the affair was deciding on her name.

“Look at her,” Carra said, holding her in his lap on the drive home. “She’s a tomboy isn’t she. She can’t have any overly feminine names. She’s clearly not a Sally or a Mitzi.”

Beside him, Gary laughed, eyes on the road. “What do you suppose we call her then? Bob? Fred? Kevin?”

“Who in their right mind names their dog Kevin? That’s atrocious. Besides, she’s a girl.” Carra made a face, then burst out laughing when the puppy made a whimpering sound. “See? She hates it. She wants a better name.”

“I’ll leave it to you, love. She’s your present, you get to name her.”

And that was how Billie came into their lives.

*

He brought pictures to work the next workday and everyone (mostly Stevie) firmly agreed she was the cutest puppy on the planet. Even Xabi remarked that she was very adorable.

“What breed is she?” He asked, peering over Stevie’s shoulder as he admired the photos on Carra’s phone.

“A springer spaniel,” Carra said. He was absolutely beaming. Xabi smiled at him cooly.

“Very pretty,” Xabi said as he floated off, leaving Carra and Stevie alone.

Stevie was engrossed in the photos, grinning at the dozens of precious puppy photos before handing Carra’s phone back to him. “You know, I want a dog. I’ve always wanted a dog.”

“You should get a dog, then,” Carra said. “It’s amazing. We’ve only had her for a few days and I swear I can’t imagine what we were doing without her.”

“Shagging without her watching you.”

“Oi. My little girl’s not gonna watch us shag. We’ve more decency than that.”

Stevie just laughed quietly, looking thoughtful then. “Wonder if Xabs would want a dog.”

“Haven’t you ever talked about it?” Carra asked, smiling stupidly at the sight of his dog on his phone.

“A couple times. It’s been awhile though.”

“Well? Does he like dogs?”

“I’m sure he does,” Stevie said hastily. “But he always said he prefers cats.”

“So maybe you could get a cat.”

“But I don’t want a cat.”

Carra raised his eyebrows and tipped back in his chair. “Uh-oh, sounds like trouble in paradise.”

Stevie rolled his eyes, but as he headed back to his desk, he couldn't help but wonder what Xabi would say if he asked to get a puppy. 

*

“Absolutely not.”

“But Xabs—”

“Steven, I do not like dogs and I do not want a dog in my house.”

Xabi was standing at the sink, scrubbing the dishes in the most angry way possible. Stevie stood next to him, leaning on the counter, doing his best impression of a plaintive child. “But babe—”

“Don’t even start that,” Xabi said, giving him a dirty look. “I have said I do not want a dog and I am serious. I don’t want a dog.”

Stevie’s heart sank. It felt like someone had intentionally popped his balloons or something. He tried to come up with some brilliant reasons as to why they should get a dog, how having a dog was the next logical step in the course of their relationship. They’d been together five years. Having a dog at that point was basically a rite of passage, wasn't it?

For his part, Xabi seemed entirely aware of Stevie’s predicament, the way he dried off his hands and stared at him, unblinking. “I do not want a dog, Steven,” he said, gentler that time. “Why could we not have a kitten instead?”

Stevie let out a dramatic sigh. “Because I don't like cats and I don't trust them and they’re nasty, Xabi.”

“Kittens are not nasty.” Xabi actually looked offended, and Steven realized his mistake.

“Alright, fine, kittens are not nasty. But they grow up to be awful and I don’t want one in my house, Xabs.”

“Then,” Xabi said, setting the dish towel on the counter with some dramatic flare, “I suppose we are at an impasse.”

And with that, he seemed to evaporate, though Steven knew full well he’d gone out to the garden to smoke and probably bitch on the phone to his brother. Typical.

*

He went over to Carra and Gary’s after his shift the next day, partly to play with the puppy and partly to have a bitch of his own, and he spent most of the time sitting on the floor playing tug of war with her while Carra watched on from the couch.

“She’s so bleeding cute,” Stevie said, toppling backwards onto the floor as the puppy charged him. “I’m going to steal her. You don’t deserve her.”

“Oi,” Carra sniffed, setting his beer down on the end table. “How dare you. Get your own dog, you fuck.”

“Can’t,” Stevie sighed, ruffling her floppy little ears. “Xabi says no. He says he wants a cat.”

“So get him a cat,” Carra said, clearly not understanding the problem.

“I don’t want a cat.”

“Why not? They’re cute. Not as cute as my girl here, but cute enough for you sods. And they’re soft. Fuzzy. What’s not to like, really?”

Stevie gave him a look, disrupted by the puppy licking his chin. “They’re sneaky. Aloof. Always look like they’re scheming against you, because in all likelihood they are.”

“Like your husband, then.” Carra smiled to himself and took a swig from his bottle.

“Oh, shut it.”

“What? It’s fucking true.”

Stevie opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by Gary putting his key in the front door and the dog sprinting away from him at full speed to crash into his legs. From his spot on the sofa, Carra grinned as he watched Gary come in.

“Jamie, hand to god I’m going to punch the next scouser I meet who dares say anything about the—” Gary stopped, sighing at Stevie’s presence on his floor. “Oh good. You’re here.”

“Be nice,” Carra said, standing up to scoop the puppy out from under Gary’s feet. “Steven’s had a rough day.”

“Oh?” Gary asked, taking off his coat. “What’s wrong? Is your husband here?”

“No, me husband’s not here,” Stevie said, reaching to take the puppy from Carra, holding her plump, wiggly body close to him.

“Xabi won’t let him get a dog,” Carra explained, sinking back into his spot, Gary settling down beside him.

“Why not? What’s he got against dogs?”

“He says he doesn’t like them,” Stevie said, sadly burying his nose in the puppy’s squishy belly. How anyone could resist something so lovable was beyond him. Sometimes he wondered if he really knew Xabi at all. “He says he wants a cat.”

Gary furrowed his brows, shrugging. “So get him a cat. Cats are just as nice as dogs.”

“Stevie hates cats for some reason,” Carra said, arm around Gary’s shoulders.

“They’re shifty and untrustworthy and they only love you if you feed them.”

“You could say that about anything, really,” Gary said. “Like dogs or children.”

“Or friends,” Carra added.

Stevie rolled his eyes.

“But really, what’ve you got against a little kitten?” Gary asked, helping himself to the remainder of Carra’s beer. “You can teach them to walk on a leash or play fetch. And Xabi seems to have made up his mind…”

Steven held the pup to his cheek and forcibly nuzzled her for a moment as he thought it over. He wanted a dog, he really did, but he wasn't going to upset Xabi just to have one. Marriage sometimes meant sacrifices, and he could live without a dog. He couldn’t live without Xabi. As he continued cuddling the puppy, he made up his mind. He was going to give Xabi exactly what he wanted for Christmas.

*

While Xabi worked a swing shift, he went to the animal shelter on the evening of the 23rd, which probably wasn’t the best idea, seeing as the place was positively teeming with people. It seemed that everyone had the same bright idea to adopt a pet in the days leading up to Christmas, meaning not only were there inordinate amounts of people there, but there were also fewer animals needing homes. Good news for the animals, of course, but sorry news for anyone wanting a variety of choices when it came to a new addition to the family.

Stevie was lucky though. He went straight to the cat section of the facility, bypassed the squealing teenagers who were cooing over the kittens and found himself at the very last cage looking into the very back at a very small little cat. He had to admit, it was incredibly charming curled up in a perfectly round little ball, its tail tucked over its nose. It was mostly brown, with some hints of gold and amber in its coat, large eyes shut tight as it napped. It looked so calm, so peaceful— precisely what Stevie was looking for in a cat, if he had to have one.

And so, in the course of forty-five minutes, he became the proud owner of a delicate little kitten.

*

Keeping her hidden was another matter entirely, and he realized on his way home that he hadn't quite figured out how to keep her a surprise until Christmas. So he made a detour, and instead of driving straight home, he showed up at Carra and Gary’s house.

“What’s this?” Gary said as he opened the door, eying the little carrier Stevie held. At his feet, Billie was straining on her hind legs to catch a glimpse of what was inside.

“It’s a present,” Stevie said as he came in. “I need you to keep this here until tomorrow.”

Carra appeared a moment later, wrinkling his nose at the sight. “What’s that, Stevie? What’ve you got in there?”

“It’s a cat,” Stevie said, forcing his way to the living room. “For Xabi.”

Gary choked, stunned as Stevie set the kennel on the sofa and opened the door. “So why’ve you brought it over here? Go and give it to him.”

“It’s a Christmas present. I can’t well give it to him on December 23rd.”

For his part, Carra just stood there snickering as the puppy barreled past her owners and over to investigate the kennel situation.

“Jamie,” Gary said, elbowing him. “Tell him he can’t leave his cat here.”

“Stevie,” Jamie said, grinning still, “Why can’t you just stuff it in a closet or something? It’s only one night—”

“It’s only one night and I’m not hiding the cat in the closet, for crying out loud,” Stevie frowned, pulling the shivering little kitten from her kennel. She looked especially tiny and especially scared, blinking at her surroundings before softly mewing. “Besides, Xabi’s got a sixth sense about this sort of thing. He’ll know she’s there. Just take her for the night and I’ll come round in the morning.”

The kitten mewed again. The puppy barked. And Gary and Carra stood in silence at the sight before them: Steven Gerrard gently petting and cuddling the smallest kitten either of them had ever seen.

“Shite, that’s cute,” Carra said in spite of himself.

“I figured if we had to have one, it ought to be the best looking one,” Stevie said, holding her up admiringly.

“Look at her, Gaz. The face is perfectly symmetrical.”

Gary shook his head. “I like how that’s the first thing you go to.”

“Well it is.”

“I’m not disagreeing, Carra. I’m just not sure why we’ve got to—”

“Aw, come on, Gary,” Stevie said, as close to pleading as he could come. “I’ll owe you one. I’m truly desperate here.”

Carra shook his head, “Don’t tell him that, he’ll try to negotiate with you. Try and get some United swag out of you, tricky bastard.”

Gary ignored him. “If we take her for the night, you’ve got to swear to me you’ll be round early to get her. We’ve got to leave for Manchester before eleven.”

“You have my word,” Stevie said.

“Has she got food?” Gary asked.

“What about a place to shit?” Carra added.

“It’s all in the car,” Stevie said, handing Carra the kitten. “I’ll bring it in. You two are the best, I swear. I owe you big time.”

As Stevie left for the car, Carra held up the kitty to look her over. “Well, she’s plenty cute alright.”

“And her markings are symmetrical,” Gary said, raising his eyebrows. The kitten twitched her nose as she turned her head to look at him, then let out a long, defiant hiss. “Charming.”

*

Carra and Gary’s evening plans had to be tabled for the night thanks to their cat-sitting duties, but they both agreed that the next night they would make it up to each other. Somehow.

*

Stevie was excessively nervous, even for him, practically shaking as he set the little hatbox under the Christmas tree on Christmas Eve. Xabi had gone to the shop for some last minute things, giving him just enough time to put the bow on the top of the box and pray everything went well.

Xabi returned twenty minutes later with an oversized box of his own, which he somehow wrangled into the house by himself. Stevie got up from the sofa, ready to help but was waved off. “You sit,” Xabi said, and so Stevie did.

“What’s in the box, Xabs?” Stevie asked, suddenly overcome with anxiety again.

“It is a present for you,” his husband answered, sliding the awkward present across the floor.

“You want me to help you with it?”

“No. I just want you to open it.”

Stevie swallowed, but quickly got up to fetch the kitten-box from it’s spot on the floor. By the time Xabi finally maneuvered it to where Stevie had been still, Stevie had set Xabi’s present on the coffee table across from him.

“Is this for me?” Xabi asked, squinting at the present, which had somehow stilled. Stevie nodded. “Let’s open them together. That would be nice.”

Stevie agreed, though he was truthfully paying more attention to Xabi’s reaction to his gift than to the contents of his own. Which was stupid, considering the moment he lifted the lid he was face to face with a wriggling, squirming golden retriever puppy… a puppy who bounced right out of the box and ran directly to Xabi, who in turn had just lifted the wiggling kitten from his box, only to have her scream and spring across the coffee table to Stevie.

“Oh my god!” Stevie gasped, suddenly finding himself with the kitten clinging to his shirt, claws nearly piercing his flesh.

“Is this a joke?” Xabi asked as the puppy somehow clamored into his lap.

“Did you get me a bloody dog?” Stevie stared at his husband, eyes wide, as he tried to pry the cat from his torso.

“You wanted a puppy, didn’t you?” Xabi had the audacity to look almost insulted, fluffing the puppy’s ears protectively.

“Well, yeah, I did, but I thought you wanted a cat.”

“I did want a cat.”

“So I got you one.”

“Oh, Steven.”

“You said you didn't want a dog, Xabier.”

“I did not want a dog, but I knew how much you wanted one. I thought it would make you happy.”

“Oh my god, babe.”

“Are you happy, Steven?” Xabi looked over at him with those amber eyes of his, those eyes that always had a way of making Steven melt, no matter how cold his gaze. He felt himself melting just then, catching sight of something rare in Xabi, something he hardly ever showed, even to Steven. Like a crack in the veneer, so was that vulnerable look in his eyes. He’d tried to make it right, tried to do right by his husband, give him what he wanted, even at the expense of his own desires. “Are you happy with the puppy, darling?”

Stevie was about to nod, about to laugh, about to rush to his side to assure him, yes, yes he was happy, he was probably the happiest bloke in all Liverpool. But from her spot in his lap, their kitten meowed. Delicate, small, more of a whimper than anything else. Steven paused, looking down at her, meeting her bright golden gaze as she slowly blinked, then started to purr. And just like that, he came to the shocking realization that he was, in fact, a cat person.

“Uh-huh,” he managed, scooping up the kitten, stretching out her little limbs a bit so he could kiss her soft belly. He wasn't lying, he was quite excited to have a dog still, but… but she was purring and kneading him and how in the hell could he give this precious little angel to Xabi now when he was so instantly smitten by her?

From their spot across the table, Xabi and the puppy shared a look, as if to say, ‘I don’t get it either’. But the puppy stayed in Xabi’s lap, woofing and licking his fingers, and as they watched the truly sickening display between Steven and the kitten, a deep and lasting bond was formed between a man and his dog.

*

The clock on the bedside table said 10:30 and things were just heating up when Carra’s mobile started to with it's annoying tinny song.

“Don’t you dare pick up,” Gary warned him, pinning him down against the mattress, having just removed his shirt. He had a very determined look in his eyes, one that Carra would be an absolute fool to ignore. “I haven’t had you to myself all day. I’ve been waiting. I’m not giving you up now.”

Beneath him, Carra groaned, and though he considered that he might be obedient, they both knew full well that he would have to answer the phone. So really, it was no surprise to Gary when he was flipped onto his back and left neglected as Carra sat up to take the call.

“I love you,” Carra said, helplessly smiling as he answered the phone. “Hi, Pepe.”

With a roll of his eyes, Gary got up too and headed for the shower. He’d apparently have to take care of himself this Christmas Eve.

*

When he returned to the bedroom, towel wrapped tight around his waist, Carra was still getting dressed. Gary stood in the doorway and watched him for a moment before breezing by him to crawl into bed.

“Have you seen my belt?” Carra asked him, watching him out of the corner of his eye. Gary shook his head. “I’m taking one of yours then.” Gary snorted. “On second thought, might be too big for me.” Gary growled a little. Carra grinned.

“You’ve gone too far this time, Carragher.”

“I have?” He knelt down to check under the bed, pulling out a pair of old socks and tossing them aside.

“Yes. But I like it.”

“You like me calling you fat, eh?” Carra peeked up at him, laughing.

“I like our banter. Dolt.” Gary propped himself up on his elbow, angling himself in just the right way to be properly admired. “I’m not fat, for the record.”

“No, you’re not. You’re fit. You’re gorgeous. Look at you.” Carra’s voice was quiet, almost a purr, and he leaned in, inching across the edge of the bed to kiss him. Their lips were just about to meet when Gary rolled away. “Oi. Unfair.”

“Don’t you have someplace to be?”

“I’ve got to be in in an hour.”

“Then why’d you get dressed?”

“The sooner I get in, the sooner I can come home to you, my love.”

Gary would never admit it, but he was practically swooning. He rolled flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling, heart beating hard in his chest. From his spot on the floor, Carra just watched him.

“Hey Jamie?”

“Yeah?”

“Marry me?”

“What.”

Gary was still looking straight up, he hadn’t moved at all, but Carra could tell he was nervous. He wasn’t really sure why Gary would be nervous, it wasn’t as if he was going to say no. Hell, they were practically married already, weren’t they? Truth be told, he already basically considered Gary his husband. All this would do was make it official and change their tax exemptions. And give Phil an excuse to plan another fucking formal event…

“Jamie?”

“Yeah, mate?”

“Are you going to answer me or not?”

Gary was looking at him then, the anxiety really starting to show on his face. He would look almost cute if Carra weren’t almost sure he was dying from the anticipation. Feeling merciful, he smiled at him and carefully crawled into bed beside him, pulling him close, kissing the top of his head, hair still damp from the shower. “Of course I’ll marry you. Don’t be such a fool. You’re the love of me life, Gary. And I mean that. I figured eventually we’d—”

“We should make it official then,” Gary said, running a hand over Carra’s shoulder. “That’s what I want for Christmas.”

“That’s what you want? A husband?” Carra couldn’t help but laugh. “A scouse husband. Oi, you’ve really lost it.”

“I lost it a long time ago.” Gary took his hand, their fingers lacing together. “You’re gonna marry me though, aren’t you?”

“I already said I would. Thought you always listened to me.”

“I do,” he said, bringing Carra’s fingers gently to his lips.

Carra couldn’t stop himself from beaming as he climbed triumphantly on top of Gary. “Ah. You hang on me every word.”

“Not quite.”

“Close enough for me.”

They stayed like that a few minutes more, Carra kissing and biting Gary’s neck, Gary absolutely refusing to let him leave, until Carra’s phone timer went off and he really did have to go. He got up from the bed, Gary disheveled and huffing while Carra helped himself to one of Gary’s belts from the closet.

“I have to run. Pepe’s fit to chew me out already.”

“The bastard,” Gary said, smiling as he watched him. “Be good. Do good, love.”

“Always,” Carra said, grabbing jacket, then hitting the lights before leaving. “Love you, Neville. Merry Christmas.”

Gary waited until he heard the front door lock to force himself out of bed. After pulling on some pants he made his way to the living room to let Billie out of her kennel. She barked at him, scrambling on her back legs, desperate for his attention, so obligingly he picked her up and carried her to the bedroom where he climbed back into bed with the puppy pressed against him.

“This is our secret, you understand? He can’t know you’ve been sleeping in his bed.”

She whimpered softly and licked his face, and eventually the two of them fell asleep in a very warm pile.

*

The case was an easy one, the perpetrator caught and confessed in only a few hours, allowing Carra to arrive home in the wee hours of Christmas morning. And he was met with the most delightful (if somewhat maddening) sight he’d ever seen. There, in his big, comfortable, desperately needed bed, lie his man, fast asleep with his dog tucked neatly under his arm. It was bloody comical is what it was, and if he weren’t so tired he might’ve had a laugh over it. Instead, he peeled off his clothes and crawled in with them, Gary rolling over to curl against him, Billie walking over Gary to lick Carra’s face.

*

A week later and they were gathered at Pepe & Yolanda’s for New Year’s Eve. The kids are outside in the garden with the two puppies, tiring themselves out with an unending game of chase while the adults mulled around the living room with champagne and beer, catching up and teasing each other over the resolution of things.

“And so, we have learned that Steven is a cat lover,” Xabi said with a bit of pride, arm around his husband’s shoulders.

“No surprises there,” Carra said as the others chuckled and snickered in agreement. “Stevie’s always had a soft spot for pus—”

“Hey,” Stevie protested in vain, “That’s me daughter you’re talking about.”

“Your daughter?” Carra snorted.

“What did you name your kitten, Stevie?” Pepe asked.

“It’s probably something very cute,” Yolanda speculated with a trill of a laugh. “Like Coco or Fifi or Priscilla.”

“Her name’s Ann.”

Carra wrinkled his nose. “Ann? That’s a rubbish name for a cat. You can’t even easily call it. Listen here. ‘Come here, Ann!’ Doesn’t even roll off the tongue.”

“It is short for Ann Field,” Xabi clarified, sipping his champagne.

And then it was Gary’s turn to look horrified. “You people are out of your heads. First there’s Billie the dog, now Ann Field the cat. You’re all mental.”

Carra nudged him with a look of mischief about him, “Eh, but don’t act like you haven’t been calling the goldfish Sir Alex. I’ve heard you talking to it. It’s right mad is what it is.”

Gary ignored the others as they burst out laughing. “Doesn’t count. That goldfish is more of a decoration than a pet, you said so yourself, mate.”

“So you’ve named the decorations after him? Jesus, Gary.”

*

Midnight was fast approaching and the three couples were mostly paired off (with the youngest children having passed out on the floor with the dogs).

Xabi and Stevie had taken over the sofa, Stevie’s head in Xabi’s lap while Xabi gazed down at him and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Are you happy?” Stevie asked, looking up at him. Xabi had one of those enigmatic little smiles again, the ones Stevie never could quite figure, though he lived for the challenge. “You happy, Xabs?”

“Of course I am. Don’t be ridiculous.” Xabi took a sip from his glass, not letting up from his petting. “Are you happy, Steven?”

“Very,” he answered quickly. “I’ve got everything I could possibly want. A nice house, a dog, a cat…” He trailed off, a dumb grin on his face. “And you. And you’ve got me, which is more important I think.”

Xabi smiled down at him, for once quite easy to read. “And Liverpool are in the top three.”

“See? Everything I could ever want and more.”

In the kitchen, Carra and Gary were whispering to each other as Carra opened another bottle of champagne.

“I really can’t believe you haven’t told them,” Gary was saying, watching him in surprise. “You usually can’t be trusted with secrets.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Carra asked, almost offended.

“Nothing. Just that I expected your mates would be the first ones you rang after I asked you.”

“I rang me mother. Is that acceptable?” Carra raised an eyebrow as he freshened their champagne flutes.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Who’d you tell first?”

“Phil. Why?”

“He’s not wanting to plan it, is he? I don’t think I can handle it.”

“Why not? He did a fine job for Stevie and Xabi’s wedding.”

Carra pulled a face. “Do you really have to bring all that up? I was in a fine mood.”

Gary just shook his head. “You should probably tell your mates, Jamie. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Tell us what?” Pepe asked, poking his head in.

“This one wants me to marry him,” Carra said plainly. Pepe let out a high pitched squeal as he raced to hug them both. “So I’m gonna.”

“Yolanda! Honey! Get in here! Something wonderful has happened! My Carra is finally getting married!”

*

And as the clocks struck twelve, there was much for everyone to celebrate. Toasts were made, the drinks flowed, and at the end of the evening, the men all went home to play with their dogs. Or, in Stevie’s case, his cat. And as the new year dawned over Merseyside, they all thought what lucky souls they were to have eked out a little piece of happiness in a world that was otherwise unforgiving and cold. Because no matter how ugly things got, how tough the circumstances might be, at the end of the day, they had one another (and their furry companions) to love them and keep them warm at night. And in the end, what more did they really need?

**Author's Note:**

> i wasn't exactly planning to write this, but i think i needed a break from the plot-heavy stuff and this is what's come of it! happy holidays, everyone! i hope you enjoyed the fluff! <3

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Not Quite The Gift of the Magi or: Put A Ring On It](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6185836) by [natalia_lip](https://archiveofourown.org/users/natalia_lip/pseuds/natalia_lip)




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